


About The Size Of It

by NaughtyBees



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Macro/Micro, Past Relationship(s), might not continue this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyBees/pseuds/NaughtyBees
Summary: After a shrinking spell goes horribly wrong, Dorian is left pocket sized and in the care of some of his friends.





	About The Size Of It

**Author's Note:**

> First Dragon Age fic! Please leave a comment telling me what you thought or if you want to commission me!

Head pounding and eyes stinging, Dorian groaned, back sore against the cold stone floor. He had been working on spells, experimenting with creating new ones to help better his effectiveness in combat, and had tried to cast one on a nug he had in a cage on the table. An explosion had occurred, blinding light and force pushing him back, flinging him to the ground. He'd been knocked out, he didn't know how long for, and as he came to he felt like he was about to implode. 

“Ugh, I need some wine… maybe something stronger.” He grumbled, hands moving to his eyes, rubbing them as he sat up, a hand to his forehead as he blinked his eyes open. “Now then-”  
A soft gasp escaped him as he looked around, seeing the cracks in the stone floor much deeper than they were before. The rug beneath the table, once rather small, was large enough to comfortably sit an entire Inquisition force, every fiber visible to him. He cast his eyes upward, the table itself like a roof above him, stretching to the sky. “Oh. Well this is unexpected.” He stood slowly, brushing himself down, craning his neck to see what else he could observe. The chair he'd been sat on was overturned, seeming more like a building in size. He saw his bed, a folded pile of his clothes, all far too big for him now. He began to wonder how he'd managed to shrink himself when the door suddenly opened. Dorian didn't have time to run as he saw a figure standing there, thin face directed toward him. He realised why he hadn't heard or felt the person coming as he recognised Cole.

The boy slowly inched forward, obviously very conscious about how huge he seemed now. “I was just passing and I heard you. White hot light, moving, changing, not meant to be like this, it's all wrong, hoping, praying not to be discovered.” He whispered softly, kneeling down a few feet away from Dorian who felt anxiety pool in his stomach. He knew Cole liked nothing more than to help people but that didn't make him feel any less nervous. “Big crushing hands, bigger crushing feet, sudden movements and grabbing fingers, splintering bones, unrecognisable paste, need to hide, need to hide.” 

Dorian exhaled, looking up at Cole who made no move to get closer. “You aren't exactly being reassuring, Cole.” He stated, moving closer slowly and watching as the spirit looked at him with a cocked head. 

“I'm sorry. I won't hurt you, I can help.” A slight smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and he set his hand down, still and patient as he waited for Dorian. 

The mage furrowed his brow slightly, hand on his hip. “I appreciate the sentiment but tell me… how exactly can you help me?” He asked, shifting his weight as an attempt to hide his painfully obvious unease. “Despite my effortless charm and the fact that I simply ooze charisma, I'm not the most popular fellow. And the Herald has enough on their plate without having to babysit me.” Still, he felt as though being by Cole's side, the most honest person he knew, seemed to be a good idea. There was never an ulterior motive with him, he always wanted one thing: to help. He slowly approached the outstretched hand, having to slightly steel himself as he stepped on, foot sinking into the pale flesh. Placing a hand on his thumb, Dorian steadied himself and clambered into Cole's palm, trying to find a comfortable position. He couldn't help softly yelping as Cole stood, his gut doing flips as he was pulled upwards, dragged to the sky. Slightly queasy, he reminded himself not to look down, biting his lip hard. 

Cole seemed to anticipate his fears as he cupped his hand close to his chest, looking down at him with a smile. “I know just who to take you to.” 

Dorian didn't feel like pressing further, the feeling that Cole would bring him to someone trustworthy sitting comfortably in his stomach like warm tea. The boy knew who was good and who was bad and, with luck, Dorian would find someone who could get him out of this mess. 

oOo

Oh boy.

The tavern was practically empty save for a few passed out drunks in the corner since it was pretty late at night. However, three figures sat at a table playing Wicked Grace, sipping their respective drinks and chatting in the lighthearted manner that friends do. Varric, a good guy, someone Dorian enjoyed being around. Krem, sweet kid, loyal and cheerful. Then there was... him. It seemed they couldn't see Cole yet as they were in plain view but still unnoticed. Dorian's thoughts raced and soft whispers above helped the mage catch them so they didn't pass him by. 

“Single night, not my first but perhaps my best, gripping sheets and biting pillows, hot breath on hotter skin, the way he says my name. He saw me vulnerable and it was nice, this is too vulnerable. He's big, too big, teasing and grabbing and laughing.” Cole muttered, watching as the Iron Bull laughed loudly and heartily at one of Varric’s jokes. “You like him but… you're frightened. Why are you frightened? The Iron Bull is nice.”

Dorian huffed indignantly. “I'm not frightened. I would just rather not be some freakshow to be made fun of.” 

The fingers around Dorian twitched and pressed a little closer, attempting to be comforting as they pressed against his sides, nudging him into Cole's shirt. “I won't let them make fun of you. You need help, it's okay.”

With a deep breath, Dorian realised there was no real way he was getting out of this without getting help somewhere. Just as he felt resigned to allow help, the three figures started, clearly surprised as Cole allowed himself to be seen. 

Varric was the first to speak, all smiles as he pulled up a chair. “Hey, Kid! Come sit down, you can join in with the game next round.”

Bull laughed. “Varric, he’ll win. He can read minds, remember?” 

Cole hid Dorian from view, sitting down and looking around at the people surrounding him. “I need to show you something. Please, let them be gentle, kind caring compassionate, need a friend, need a friend.” He lifted his hands, opening them slowly and showing Dorian to the three figures. 

There was a beat of silence where Dorian folded his arms and steeled himself, not looking at any of the surprised eyes on him. As Cole explained the situation as best he could, the mage glanced at Bull, seeing him staring at him with an unreadable expression. Varric set his cards down, showing he already had a full hand, and huffed. “Well, shit. Got a bad deal for yourself there, Sparkler. At least I'm not the shortest guy in the Inquisition anymore.” He leant forward a little, seeming concerned. “Any way to reverse it?”

Dorian frowned slightly. “I was supposed to cast the spell on a nug, not on myself. Undoing it hadn't crossed my mind. I suppose it might wear off eventually but I'm not exactly fit to put in some research right now.”

Bull snickered softly into his flagon. “Might just be the liquor talking but you're a lot cuter when you're pocket sized.” He grunted out, leaning on the table. “Don't suppose you can use some blood magic to take care of it? You know some blood magic, Krem?”

The man to Bull's left smiled to himself, putting down his cards to show he'd lost drastically. “Can't you ask Solas? I'd expect he'd know a thing or two that could help.”

Dorian nodded. “I suppose so. He's probably got his head stuck in the fade though.” He stepped out of Cole’s hand onto the table, straightening his clothes and making sure his hair was intact. “First, however, I would like a drink if it's not too much trouble.” 

Varric nodded. “Sure, I'll get you a glass- uh… thimble.” He smirked and stood, walking to the bar. 

Bull sat up, looking over to Varric. “Hey, get me something to eat, I'm starving. Didn't realise until I thought about how bite sized Dorian is now.” 

“Oh, fasta vass, you just had to, didn't you?” He hissed, stepping back. Cole placed his hand down, palm to the table, and Dorian sat on it, arms folding. 

Cole began murmering again. “Wide open jaws, blunter teeth than a dragon, not so much ripping but crushing, grinding, skull turned to powder. Or left whole, conscious, tight hot pressure as light fades, stinks and stings and burns and bubbles, skin melting off flesh, flesh melting off bones-”

“Please!” Dorian yelled, throwing his hands up. “I rather think my situation is distressing enough without your input! I'm tiny with possibly no way of getting back to normal, I'm thirsty and I haven't eaten all day!”

Krem reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. “Here, you can have a little of this if you want- not you, chief.” He moved the handkerchief away from Bull and opened it, setting it down for Dorian. There was a little slice of cake sat there and from the smell, the mage recognised a Tevinter recipe. He could smell the spice and the honey, making his mouth water. 

Varric came back and set a little thimble of wine down for Dorian and a plate with a large slice of turnip and mutton pie for Bull. “What did I miss?” He asked, collecting up the cards and shuffling them. 

Dorian took a large crumb of cake and bit into it, wiping some from his moustache, enjoying the little pang of nostalgia as he thought about home. “Well, I was threatened with being eaten alive and then had it vividly described to me. But at least our Tevinter friend here has some manners.” He tried not to watch Bull eat his pie, forcing himself not to think about it lest Cole start voicing his fears again. 

“I was only joking, Dorian.” He grunted between mouthfuls. “Sorry I scared you. Sometimes a jerk when I've been drinking.”

The mage huffed and took a deep drink of the wine. “Ugh. Why does all wine in the South taste like ogre piss?” He grumbled, finishing it regardless. 

Varric snickered, dealing again. “Drink a lot of ogre piss, do you?” He sat up, looking at his hand, keeping the same expression and not giving anything away. “Hey, Kid, could you go get Chuckles? As much as I like being taller than Dorian, I'm confident I can probably take all his money. I'm feeling lucky.”

Cole nodded and stood, leaving the tavern quietly and then Dorian was alone with Varric, Bull and Krem. 

“Why were you even messing around with size changing spells?” Bull asked, leaning forward slightly. “Is it as dirty as I think it is? Because you don't need it, believe me.” 

Dorian glared up at him. “Vishante kaffas, I was trying to make a combat spell!” He shook his head, sighing. “Imagine trying to fight a dragon. My spell, if and when it works, could reduce it to the size of a puppy.”

“That would take all the fun out of it!” 

Varric smiled. “Okay, that's a pretty good idea. Might make the Inquisitor a little upset, they love dragon hunting almost as much as Tiny.” He gestured to the grumpy looking Qunari who was just about to rant about how boring the world would be without dragons. Varric picked up Dorian's empty thimble and dipped it into his own cup, giving it back to him. “Here, it's antivan ale.”

“Thank you. I just wish I still had a bottle of wine stashed away.” He grumbled, gulping down the alcohol like it was going out of fashion. 

Cole reappeared again, Solas behind him. The elf looked at Dorian and sighed, sitting down at the table. “Cole filled me in on the situation.” He shook his head, clearly displeased with the situation. “I wouldn't have expected a mage as experienced as you to create such a mess for yourself.”

Dorian bristled slightly, not liking Solas’s tone. “Your concern is astounding, I think I may cry.” Looking up at the elven mage, he exhaled. “Look, are you going to help me or should I see if Vivienne is better suited for the task?”

Solas didn't reply, he simply looked close at Dorian, inspecting him. As he did, Dorian couldn't help looking at Bull who had finished his pie and was watching them intently, clearly interested. Varric leant on the table, lacing his fingers together. “What do you think, Chuckles? Is Dorian going to live to strut another day?”

Looking up, Solas smiled curtly. “The spell isn't what I'd call serious. It will wear off. It may be an hour, at most a week, but it will eventually.”

Dorian exhaled. “Wonderful… Exactly what I needed.” He dragged his hands down his face, being careful not to upset his moustache. “So, who wants to be responsible for the cats not eating me?” 

Varric smiled. “I'm sure we can all chip in, Sparkler. It's not all bad, I'm pretty positive you'll find a way to enjoy it.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dorian looked at the dwarf. “Enlighten me, Varric. How could there possibly be an upside to this?”

“Well, you won't run out of food for one.” He gestured to the cake Krem had given him, it being almost all still there. “It'd be easy to keep you warm, which is pretty important in Skyhold.”  
Dorian sighed, wrapping his arms around himself and nodding, frowning at the varnished wood below him. "Don't worry, Sparkler. We'll take care of you."


End file.
